


feel you burn (in every drop of my blood)

by supernovacitrus



Series: book of hours [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Blood As Lube, Choking, Consensual Death, Consensual Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other, Sex Murder, Stabbing, actually two nonbinary guardians!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovacitrus/pseuds/supernovacitrus
Summary: Mori-3 wants to take. Elian Eko wants to give. It works out nicely in the end.
Relationships: Guardian/Guardian (Destiny), Mori-3/Elian Eko, Original Exo Character(s) (Destiny)/Original Human Character(s)
Series: book of hours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550941
Kudos: 8





	feel you burn (in every drop of my blood)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misereMartyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misereMartyr/gifts).

> So this whole mess started with the first two lines of dialogue, plus a bit about the gloves coming off. And _that_ was inspired by, believe it or not, a MBMBAM joke about Spiderman. Anyway I'm gonna go take a shower because this is both disgusting and, if I may say so myself, extremely hot. Please, PLEASE pay attention to the tags, and enjoy!
> 
> Oh also: Elian and Mori are both nonbinary. Elian uses both he and they pronouns, but will be referred to with he/him throughout for clarity.

“I want to feel it this time.”

The Exo slips their gloves off, wrapping bare metal fingers around their prone partner’s neck and leaning in to watch his face as they continue. Humans are so stupidly expressive, this one in particular, but there are situations where they suppose that might be an advantage. Situations like this one.

“I want to feel you die.”

It won’t be the first time they’ve killed him, but the pitch of their voice in his ear and the warmth of their hand on his neck sends a shiver through Elian’s body that is almost as much fear as it is pleasure. They’d been sparring, actual combat practice slowly devolving (Evolving? Ascending? It doesn’t feel like a downward movement, really) into something both more playful and more—well, just more in general, he supposes. He’s been hard since they started wrestling, rolling around on the mats until Mori has him pinned down on his back, and now…

“Seven hells, yes. Fuck, Mori, where did that even—” and he stops, abruptly, because now their hand is clamped tightly over his mouth, and holy _ shit _ that’s hot.

“No more talking.” 

Their grip tightens and they turn his head to the side, bringing their free hand up to trace the now-prominent tendons in his neck. Elian retaliates, if it can honestly be called retaliation, by reaching up to palm their chest with one hand as he settles the other on their hip. His hands are already bare, as is his own chest — he prefers to spar in as little as possible, especially with someone he likes as much as he likes them.

Mori shifts at the feeling of his fingers tracing the soft silicone of their breast, grinding down against him for a moment and grinning at the way he attempts to rut up against them. This is relatively new territory but there’s no denying the rush they’re both getting, as much from the power imbalance as the physical sensations.

Elian touches them with intent but no urgency, relaxing into their hold and deftly avoiding getting his fingers pinched in the shifting metal plates on their torso as he explores as much of their body as he can reach. He’s losing himself in it easily, loves the tactile stimulation, but his exploration is interrupted by the hand that seemingly out of nowhere is back at his throat, depriving his brain of both blood and oxygen. Instinctively, he reaches up to wrap both of his own hands around Mori’s wrist as he struggles beneath them; he didn’t think this was what they meant when they said they wanted to feel it, but when his vision starts to blur he finally wonders if he might have been wrong.

Just as suddenly as it began, the crushing pressure on his neck is gone. Elian gasps in a desperate breath and tries to settle his pulse back to a normal, not-about-to-die rate before the next attack. Mori looks pleased above him, but it isn’t until their hips grind down again that he realizes exactly why: he’d been interested from the start, but now it feels like all the blood that wasn’t getting to his brain decided to reroute directly to his groin. 

“Hands above your head.”

Their tone brooks no argument, but Elian is more than happy to comply. He’s a bit confused when they move down to his thighs, but then they’re yanking down his sweats and he could not have chosen a better time to go commando, seriously. It should feel strange, should be uncomfortable to be lying on his back mostly naked with his hands above his head in a not entirely private room where there’s definitely a chance they’ll be found before this is over, but the only thing Elian feels is another jolt of pleasure-and-fear, especially when Mori pulls a knife from…

“Wait, where were you hiding that?”

Their eyes flash red for a split second and they’re back on top of him faster than should really be possible, this time with the sharp point of a dagger pressing hard into the soft underside of his jaw.

“If you don’t shut up, you won’t be alive when I get to the fun part.”

Elian swallows as hard as he can without pushing his throat further into their blade, and they pull back just far enough to let him nod his understanding before shoving two fingers into his mouth without warning. It’s a clear enough command, or at least he thinks it is, so he focuses on tracing the metal and lightly textured silicone with his tongue, getting them as wet as he can until they seem satisfied. 

When Mori removes their fingers, he watches as they reach down and — oh. When did they lose their shorts? His hips jerk upward involuntarily as he watches them leave a trail of _ his saliva _ down their pubic—well, bone, but not, because Exos don’t have bones, and damn he really needs to stop getting distracted in the middle of things because he’s just blinked and now they’re thrusting those fingers slowly in and out between their legs, hips positioned tantalizingly close to his but not quite close enough to actually touch any of the places he desperately wants them to.

“Hm. That’s not quite good enough,” Mori says. Before Elian can begin trying to understand what they mean the knife is against his skin again, this time low on his abdomen, and they’re pushing and he’s not quite high enough on adrenaline to not feel himself being stabbed but he must be overloading on something because it feels _ good _. 

They linger a bit pulling out, and then Elian lets out a sharp cry because they’ve replaced the blade with their fingers and when he imagined having Mori inside him he never imagined anything like this. He wants to watch, wants to see what he knows they're about to do with the blood spilling out of his gut and over their hand, but the churning in his stomach has him staring resolutely at the ceiling, hands still pressed to the mat above his head as he forces the bile in his throat back down.

Not being able to see what’s coming next makes the feeling of metal and silicone fingers wrapping around his cock so much better, but the sudden wave of relief at finally being touched is interrupted by a jolt of pleasure when Mori sinks down onto him with no hesitation. Elian whimpers at the pressure of their body weight against his hips, and then again at the pain when he thrusts up and is sharply reminded of the hole in his abdomen.

Mori leans in, then; not close enough that Elian can lean up to kiss them, but close enough that their stomach brushes against his open wound as they roll their hips. He’s struggling to stay quiet, nerves firing in all directions, especially when they begin fucking him in earnest — and it _is_ him being fucked, no matter what anyone else might say. He can feel his heart pounding, sweat gathering at the center of his collarbone and in the dip of his back and along his hairline where Mori’s fingers, still wet with blood, are pushing loose strands back to keep them out of his eyes. The gesture is almost tender, so much so that Elian almost misses the desperation the rest of their body is loudly betraying, and he aches to touch them again, to at least have a chance to give them some fraction of the pleasure he’s been given.

Their hand moves from his hair up to his wrists, and then Mori’s voice brings him back to the present as they guide one of his hands to their left breast.

“Cù stopped my heart, once.” They spread his fingers out, thumb on the soft silicone underside while the others rest on warm metal. “Arc bolt right here.” There’s no steady thump behind the plating, only the quiet hum of a reactor, and Elian imagines he can feel a spark of electricity in his fingertips. “The look in his eyes… I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like. To take everything from someone like that.”

Elian groans, thrusting up to meet them as the rhythm they set begins to falter. He wants it too, wants to lose everything he has at the hands of someone he trusts entirely.

“Please… Mori, _please_.” 

He doesn’t have the breath or the brainpower to say anything more, but it’s enough because they both know they want the same thing. Mori takes his hand again, moves it down to press his thumb against the soft place where their synthetic body meets his organic one and rolls their hips into the touch. Elian gasps when they tighten around him, and then the knife is back at his throat and his orgasm begins the moment the blade pierces skin.

It’s quick, the pain of the cut over almost as soon as it began. Elian gasps instinctively, his free hand coming up to touch the new wound, and he sees another flash of red from Mori’s eyes when his fingers meet muscle and flesh and blood, so much blood. His throat is open and the gasp he couldn’t help brought blood flowing into his windpipe, moving down into his lungs and up into his mouth simultaneously. He’s still coming and now so is Mori, one of their hands pushing his out of the way to bring themself off as they stare into his eyes. Everything is red and spinning, blood and sex, pain and pleasure.

The last thing Elian hears before he dies is Mori’s voice above him murmuring _ “Good boy.” _

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collaborative effort between myself and misereMartyr, by which I mean he came up with the concept and egged me on as I turned two sentences of dialogue and description into 1600 words of... well, this. There will likely be future installments with these characters, but nothing is planned out so it won't become a series until part 2 actually gets written.


End file.
